


Under the Mistletoe

by Rhysanoodle



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 20:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16960668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhysanoodle/pseuds/Rhysanoodle
Summary: An accidental encounter under the mistletoe leaves both Elain and Azriel wondering if there could be more between them.





	Under the Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the Elriel Secret Santa exchange posted for @librarian-of-orynth over on Tumblr! :)

“Now kiss!” Mor yelled from across the room. **  
**

“What the hell?” Az whipped around, trying to figure out who she was heckling now. 

Ever since she’d gotten into her second bottle of wine, Mor had been running around Rhys and Feyre’s estate acting mischievous and trying to get everyone “in the Solstice spirit.” Whatever that meant. He personally felt like the holiday celebration was more festive than most in recent memory.

But when he looked around, the rosy-cheeked, giggling female was staring directly at him—and Elain, who had been carrying in another platter of cookies from the kitchen.

“Huh?” his petite friend breathed as she peeked around him to peer at Mor, who was now beaming at them with all the brightness of the Morning Star.

“There’s mistletoe,” the cheeky female grinned, inclining her head toward the doorway they were both standing directly beneath. “Anyone who passes under it must kiss. It’s a Solstice tradition.”

Az tilted his head up, taking in the verdant bundle now hastily taped over the door frame. 

That most definitely hadn’t been there when he had left the room, and from the way it was positioned inside the sitting room, hidden completely out-of-sight of the hallway, it was almost as if Mor had been trying to trap someone.

“It’s also traditionally _hanging in plain sight,_ Morrigan.” He shot her a dirty look.

“Look, I’m not saying I wanted _you_ to be the ones who walked under it. Personally I was rooting for Cassian—and _anyone_ else really—just to see what would happen, but it’s bad luck to ignore mistletoe, you know.”

Az fought the urge to grimace. Not because the thought of kissing Elain was so reprehensible—quite the opposite actually—but he knew she was still getting over Graysen. 

Kissing her now would likely just push her away from him. And he’d been working so hard to become her friend and help make her feel comfortable in her hour of need.

So much unspoken seemed to lay heavily between the two of them, but he’d been waiting for her to give him some sort of sign that she was ready.

Elain slipped past him, like a wraith, setting the cookies on the coffee table before returning to his side.

“It’s fine. Let’s just do it,” she whispered. “Before the others come in.”

Of course she’d be embarrassed about this, and Mor certainly wasn’t going to stop ogling them until they surrendered. Plus, he could indeed hear some muffled voices approaching. 

Best to just get this over with. At least Elain was the one agreeing to acquiesce to Mor’s shenanigans—not leaving him gaping between the two and forced to try to shrug it off.

He glanced down at Elain, drowning in her molten chocolate eyes which seemed to be drinking him in just as deeply—as if they were both under the same enchantment—if only for a moment. And then he closed his eyes, lowering his head as his lips found purchase on her own.

Every eddying thought in his head vanished—every shadow whispering in his ear, every single sensation other than that burning point of contact where their lips met.

Foolishly, idiotically, he _moved_ —one of his hands finding its home in the small of her back, the other cupping her face, fingers weaving their way through her wavy, silken locks.

He knew he shouldn’t keep going. He should just keep it simple, a platonic peck on the lips, but the moment he tasted her on his lips, he was utterly bewitched, unable to resist the pull of her gravity, unable to pull away as his tongue flickered against her lips instinctually. A plea for an invitation. 

_Let me in. Let me in. Let me in._

Answering his silent prayers, her mouth parted slightly allowing his tongue to slip in, mingling and dancing with her own for a brief moment—before those approaching voices began to clarify, crescendoing as he could sense them turning the corner.

And Elain jumped backwards, shifting into the sitting room and settling herself on the couch next to Mor with crimson cheeks. Mor leaned over to whisper something in her ear, which made Elain’s eyes go wide as she stared at him doe-eyed for a minute before settling her gaze on the tray before her on the table. As if she wished she were anywhere but here—with him.

Az fought the urge to run to her side, to apologize for getting swept up in the moment and taking things too far, but he had to settle for adjusting his posture, tucking his wings which had flared out in the heat of the moment back in, and plopping himself into a plush chair before the fast-approaching Cassian got wind of Mor’s little trick.

* * *

_Azriel has the biggest wingspan. In more ways than one._

The words Mor had muttered in her ear, low enough that certain other Fae ears in the room would be unable to detect, clanged in Elain’s head long after the moment had passed.

Long after Az had innocently taken his own seat, leaving the mistletoe hanging over the entryway to catch the next pair of unsuspecting victims—which happened to be Cassian and Amren.

Long after Amren had sent a burst of power straight into Cassian’s groin for even hesitating to consider whether kissing the tiny, ancient female was worth it or if he’d rather risk the superstition.

Long after Rhys had scooped Feyre into his arms, twirling her around as he pelted her with kisses before carefully plucking the mistletoe off of its perch and flinging it into that negative space he seemed to be able to store objects in.

“You lot are no fun,” Mor grumbled, but when Rhys broke out a flagon of spiked eggnog, she quickly changed her tune, whistling upbeat Solstice songs and occasionally giving Elain little knowing looks.

_What did it all mean?_

She’d been mortified when Mor had ambushed her and Az earlier in the evening—mortified and thrilled. 

For what seemed like ages, she had been interested in Azriel. Interested and terrified of becoming too emotionally invested in him—because of Mor. No matter how unlikely it seemed that the two would end up together after centuries, she still snuck glances at him when he thought no one was looking and could feel the longing in his expressions as if he were adrift at sea and Mor were a lifeboat he couldn’t quite reach.

So she told herself to stay away from him. Even if she’d been in the same hopeless situation with Graysen.

But that was behind her now. She hadn’t seen Graysen in over a year now, and though she’d only very recently thought she might take the ring off, that she might not crumble at the weight of her worthlessness without the empty promise on her finger, somehow she had come through that all.

And received an unintentional Solstice gift from Mor which would cause all others to pale in comparison. 

Azriel had kissed her. 

Azriel had _more_ than just kissed her. 

While Elain had stood frozen in shock and anticipation at the fact that he had drawn out the moment, he had molded their bodies together, until they were one and the same.

The force of his lips—and Cauldron boil her, his tongue—crashing like waves against the shores of her mouth had threatened to undo her.

That is, until she had realized just how close Cassian was to walking in on the private moment, and she’d panicked.

What had she been thinking? Why had it felt like she was a little kid about to get caught with her hand in the cookie jar?

_Because you were enjoying it a little too much,_ a voice in her head whispered. _And you might have had to admit that. And besides_ —he’s not yours.

Right.

She swallowed and glanced over to where he was sitting next to the fire, sipping on whiskey and surveying the group. 

Their eyes caught, and he tilted his head a bit, amber eyes simmering in the glow of the flame as he flashed her a shy smile, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly. 

She blushed instantly and without recourse and turned away from his burning assessment.

Had he … Had he possibly been enjoying the kiss as much as she had? 

Azriel _had_ been the one to deepen it, but Elain had been the one to suggest they go through with it. Perhaps he just got swept away in the moment. 

It could’ve happened to anyone. He could’ve been imagining _anyone_.

But here he was flashing those bedroom eyes in her direction, _smiling_ at her from across the room while the others were busy exchanging presents, munching on cookies, and chugging their drinks.

She found it hard to focus on anything else as she was handed glasses of wine, as she had to smile and thank the others for their gifts, as she was repeatedly drawn into conversation

Everything was second to her lingering thoughts of the taste of his lips. Everything was second to the heat pooling at her core, causing her to shift uncomfortably in her seat, unable to scratch that particular itch in this room full of others.

“Elain, this one’s for you!” Feyre exclaimed, thrusting another parcel into her lap. It was lovingly, precisely wrapped, with crisp handwriting. Azriel’s handwriting.

She tensed up, unsure where to look. At him? At the gift? At others? Why was this suddenly so difficult? How did one casually open a gift?

She delicately peeled at the tape of the package, careful not to tear the paper as she folded it back to reveal a plush, pastel purple sweater. The perfect complement for the flowing skirts and loose pants she’d taken to wearing in the gardens in the autumn and winter months.

“Thank you, Az. It’s perfect,” she beamed. The first smile she’d allowed him tonight. The first crack in her armor, which she knew she might never be able to mend if she let him past her guard and he inevitably turned her down.

“Of course, Elain. Happy Solstice,” he murmured back to her as he took another sip of his whiskey and smirked at her.

Damn that mouth of his. She felt those walls inside her breaking, an entire river ready to flood through her soul. One to match the physical symptoms overwhelming her body as she fixated on what else that mouth of his could do to her.

Cauldron boil her. A simple kiss had been enough to break the resolve she’d been building for months now.

Was it doing the same to him? 

He certainly seemed to be preening like a cat over in the corner, but she knew he was too good of a spy to be showing any sign of being flustered by what had occurred between them—if that was even the case.

The evening dragged on in an agonizing fashion, as Elain couldn’t be less concerned with the rest of the presents and storytelling as her family got progressively more inebriated from the general merriment mixed with spirits.

She felt her own brand of intoxication, but it had nothing to do with the wine she was sipping on sparingly.

Oh no—she still had the scent of a certain mist and cedar musk in her nostrils, burning her from the inside out as she resisted jumping in his lap to get another dose.

Slowly but surely, the general mood in the room began to shift as Feyre nestled further onto Rhys’s lap, the two of them lost in their own little world before winnowing away. Just like last year. Amren and Varian excused themselves shortly after, following a few heated looks of their own and strolled out the front doors of the estate.

Which left only a disgruntled Cassian and Mor in the room with them. Mor flashed Elain a knowing look before grabbing Cassian and muttering about something vague she needed to show him. A flimsy excuse, but Elain appreciated it nonetheless.

And apparently so did Azriel, as he let out a sigh the second the others were out of earshot and stalked across the room toward her.

He paused, inches away from her, the heat from the fireplace radiating off his tanned skin, as he seemed unsure how to progress. Unsure how to address this elephant in the room between them.

“What is this?” Elain whispered, staring unblinkingly at his chest, rising and falling before her, tattoos peeking out from the unclasped top buttons.

“What do you want it to be?” he murmured back.

Unfair. This was so incredibly unfair. He’d been the one to make that kiss completely unforgettable for her, and he had the audacity to think that Elain needed to be the one to define what she wanted?

He had to know. Surely, it had been written across her face for months.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled back practically incoherently.

“Are you going to pretend you haven’t been thinking about me all evening?” he purred right back at her. Where had all this confidence come from?

“I—I—” she stuttered dumbfoundedly.

He lifted one hand to her chin, tilting it, until she was trapped, staring into those liquid-gold eyes of his as he gave her a tentative smile.

“You’re rather terrible at lying, El. Especially when these,” he let his shadows flicker over his face for a split second before vanishing them once again to wherever they came from, “have been whispering sweet nothings in my ear about you all evening.”

She glared back at him, torn between wanting to smack the grin right off his face and desperately desiring to wipe it off with her own lips pressed against it.

“You have no right to say that to me when I know that kiss probably meant nothing to you.” She had to get it off her chest before it swallowed her whole.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re in love with—”

“No, I’m not. I’m sorry if you thought I still felt that way … but no.” He ran a relieved hand through his thick, dark locks. “Cauldron, I had imagined myself apologizing for about a million different reasons while waiting to get the chance to speak to you alone tonight—for taking advantage of the moment, for not asking you ahead of time if it was something you truly wanted to do, for not telling you how I felt sooner—but not this.” He huffed a quiet chuckle.

“How do you feel about me?” she pressed, leaning into his chest now—gaze unwavering—as she waited with bated breath for his answer.

“Elain, when I look at you, it’s like everything else in the world simply disappears. I get so caught up in the light shining in your eyes, that adorable dimple on your cheek when you smile, the glorious, contagious laughter which sounds like the tinkling of temple bells, that I have no idea what to do with myself. You’re a breath of fresh air at the bottom of the ocean. I’ve existed for almost six centuries, and never have I been completely and unequivocally swept away with anyone. _Anyone._ It’s only you that I see.

“And when we kissed tonight, it’s like something inside me was unleashed. I told myself that it would be quick, perfunctory, just to appease Mor, but the moment I had you in my arms, the second I tasted you on my lips, I lost all semblance of self control. I could have happily died in that moment if you hadn’t jerked away from me.”

“It’s not what you think …” Elain blurted. “I was just terrified. That somehow it was just a fluke, that you weren’t truly thinking of me in that moment. Or that it was all an accident, and you didn’t mean to get carried away with someone like me. And when I heard Cassian, I couldn’t stand there any longer and face him … asking questions. I didn’t want it to end either,” she whispered.

With that he lowered his face to hers once again, this time with the confidence of a male knowing he had her wrapped around his pinky finger.

And Elain exploded. The desire for him which had been building all evening unleashing itself in a breathy moan as he cupped her face in his rough hands, threading his fingertips into the hair at the nape of her neck.

Cauldron. It felt so incredible to be back in his arms, especially as his tongue entered her mouth and rolled playfully around her own. 

Those few stolen moments under the mistletoe hadn’t done him justice at all. Magnificent though they might have been, there was something infinitely more seductive about him confidently, lazily, taking his time with her like this.

Her hands were moving feverishly now as they worked their way down from where she’d initially wrapped them around his neck down to his back, where she clutched onto the sleek fabric of his shirt and began moving on him again in earnest.

She needed more, more, _more_ of him.

As her hands scrambled around to the front of his shirt and began to fumble with his buttons, he gripped her wrists.

“And then there’s this. You haven’t exactly been able to hide this well at all tonight. My shadows noticed it at first, but then …” He breathed in deeply. “Your scent was impossible to ignore.”

She felt her cheeks light up like firecrackers, grateful that the dying embers of the fire were the only illumination in the room. 

She could feel the evidence of hours worth of daydreaming about this moment in her underclothes, but the fact that it wasn’t her secret alone was absolutely mortifying.

“Relax. You’re not the only one.” He pulled her until their abdomens were flush against each other’s and she could feel … 

_Oh._

“Are you sure you’re ready for this …” He gestured to the clumsily wrinkled collar of his shirt where she hadn’t even succeeded in freeing one extra button. “With me? You haven’t had too much to drink?”

Elain shut his nonsense up with a kiss, stretching up on the tips of her toes to close the distance between them. 

She was unbearably sober right now, and intently aware that she was more than capable of making this decision.

“Yes,” she breathed against his lips. “More than you know.”

That admission was enough to snap the leash he seemed to be using to keep himself restrained.

He intensified the kiss, their mouths fusing as if they had been made for each other, one hand moving to cup the small of her back as she felt a strange sensation within her stomach. Winnowing—or shadow-walking. However he moved through the world, the two of them were no longer in the sitting room.

She didn’t care enough to surface to survey her surroundings though as he nipped at her bottom lip, tugging at it roughly, unable to breathe properly as she was drowning in his touch.

He was guiding them back, back, back, until her thighs brushed up against the plush surface of a mattress.

Elain took the moment as an opportunity to once again attack the buttons on his shirt in earnest. 

Without breaking contact, he helped her finish the job, shrugging it off before reaching with tentative hands underneath her sweater, shimmying it up a fraction, until it was seated high on her hips, but pausing before going any further. As if he were still damn unsure about her desires.

“Off. Now,” she growled under her breath. And raised her arms to help him as he pulled it over her head, exposing her peaked nipples to the chill air in the unlit, spare bedroom Azriel had slipped them into.

He gently lowered her horizontally onto the bed, one hand cradling her breast, his muscled torso warming the rest of her as he kissed down the length of her neck.

“You have been driving me crazy,” he murmured between kisses. “All night. I haven’t been able to think about a single thing other than the way you tasted. I kept stealing glances at you, wondering if you felt the same electricity I did. And then I scented you. And it was all I could do to keep myself in that damned chair until the others got distracted.”

Every inch of her skin which he visited felt branded, as if he was leaving his mark all over her, and Elain couldn’t get enough of it.

Ever so gradually, like honey pouring down her body, he shifted, giving ample attention to her nipples with his tongue and teeth before continuing on his path down the trail of her stomach. Until he was hovering at the waistline of her skirt, and Elain found herself arching her hips, encouraging him to give her _more._

“Eager now, are we?” he smirked. At which she pulled her hands out of their perch in his hair and went to work herself removing the horribly impeding garment, underthings and all.

“Cauldron, Elain,” Az murmured as she bared herself for him body and soul. He continued onward, taking his time as he kissed and teased everywhere but at the burning apex of her thighs. 

She felt herself growing impatient, simultaneously savoring the moment and impetuously trying to goad him on with her hands.

Hands which summarily ended up pinned above her head, a sleek, glacial substance holding them there.

“What the—”

“They’re extremely useful for many more tasks than simply whispering in my ear,” Az purred. And Elain barely had time to fully process the fact that he meant his shadows before he pounced, his tongue arcing one smooth, sleek stroke up the center of her and making Elain forget even her own name.

And when he reached that bundle of nerves, she thought she was likely to burst. But he kept on moving his tongue in ways she’d never dreamed of before, delving it in and out of her and flicking her coyly in all the right places.

But never brushing up too directly against her clit for too long, never quite hitting the exact spot in the way she wanted—in the way he must know would shatter her into a million pieces.

She’d tried squirming beneath his grasp, but his hands, now firmly planted on her hips made it nearly impossible for her to thrust herself at him in the manner which would perfectly align his tongue.

He continued his relentless assault until Elain could finally feel fire rushing to pool at her core and instantly the waves of lightning came over her, one by one washing over her as her back arched in earnest and her hands tore uselessly at their restraints in an attempt to find purchase somewhere—anywhere.

When Elain was panting heavily, about to combust from the sheer pleasure of it all and unsure how much more she could take, Azriel slowed his tongue to a gentle flicker, keeping her stimulated, but able to relax just slightly. Until she would seize up once again with each agonizing lap it made against that infinitely sensitive spot.

“Az … ” she breathed, unable to think, to find the right words to say to him right now.

Instead, feeling her arms freed from their bondage as soon as she had come down from her orgasm, she sat up lazily, in a daze. 

But as soon as she eyed the waistline of his pants which were infuriatingly still on, she zeroed in, making a beeline for the button which would free him for her to pleasure in return.

Azriel deflected her though, dodging out of the way and then lifting her into his arms.

“No. Tonight’s all about you,” he protested, as he deftly maneuvered them into the bed.

“But—”

“Tomorrow,” he whispered as he held her tightly to his chest.

And it was a promise. That this wasn’t just a fleeting affair. That they could have a future together, so she settled into his arms and mimicked his words back to him in agreement. “Tomorrow.”

“Happy Solstice, El.”

“Happy Solstice, Az.”


End file.
